Pretty cummerbund

Here´s a belt I bought in a thrift
store (for less than 3 €...) - not to
wear it, just to have it...

"The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seemed filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers and a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
thought it may look like (write it!) like disaster."

(Elisabeth Bishop: One Art)
- Tuesday Poem at 3 Quarks Daily -

Also there today: a link to a lenghty LA Weekly-
article on Raymond Chandler, who died 50 years
ago this week, after drinking himself to
death - and whom we (should...) remember as
"the person who elevated the lowly mystery to the
realm of literature. As a damn funny writer (...)
The King of the Simile. The Bard of the Bad Blondes..."


Crochet Attack

Damned clock change - best thing is
to stay in bed for a day or two to
acclimatize - and to chrochet (easier
to do in bed than sewing, I find...)

Say hello to Mrs. and Mr. Hä (as in
häkeln, German for chrochet...), they´re
finger puppets, and very fond of each


Second Hand Rose

Feeling tired and clumsy yesterday
evening, but still in the mood for a
fresh stitch, I got out a pile of out of
use sweaters and pyjama pants, cut some rectangles,
sew them together...

...and added a rose. Looks quite good -
considering that some of the discarded
clothes were already bought second hand...
I think I´m going to make a full size blanket
that way - fine project for times of

"Father has a business strictly second hand
Everything from toothpicks to a baby-grand
Stuff in our apartment came from fathers store
Even things Im wearing someone wore before
Its no wonder that I feel abused
I never get a thing that aint been used

Im wearing second hand hats
Second hand clothes
Thats why they call me
Second hand rose

Even our piano in the parlor
Father bought for ten cents on the dollar
Second hand pearls
Im sick of second hand curls
I never get a single think thats new
Even jake, the plumber, hes a man I adore
Had the nerve to tell me hes been married before!

Everyone knows that Im just
Second hand rose
From second avenue!
From second avenue! nu!

One more time!
Everyone knows that Im just
Second hand rose
(from second avenue!)
From what?
Lets see if you know the fills!
Once while strooling
Through the ritz a girl got my goat...
(she nudged her friend
And said oh look there goes
My old fur coat)
You dont need me!

Everyone knows that Im just
Second hand rose
From second avenue!
(ya cant beat the egg-creams!)
Good! second avenue!
(there is more between me
And fifth avenue, I tell ya)
Right! second avenue!"

(Barbra Streisand: Second Hand Rose)


Rain or shine

Snowflurry - followed immediately by
bright blue skies = amusing climate

Pansy stitching = amusing occupation

"die stadt ist ein wechsel von schatten + licht
über den bäumen · liegt

müdigkeit die mich beschützt &
umsehen lässt · eine lücke, der wind ist codiert –
ein wort · spalt zwischen den bäumen wie

mit dem kinderwagen vom weg
abgekommen · von einer müdigkeit in eine andere –

mein suchen deckt nichts auf es lässt verschwinden
was bleibt · wenn der wind
sich legt · unter das grün

an den teich – was ist dann sichtbar
zwischen den bäumen · das nieder-

gedrückte gras einer spur"

(Christian Schloyer: es geht ein wind über
die stadt der spricht)

the city´s a changing from shadow to light
above the trees . lies
tiredness, protecting me &
making me look around - a gap, the wind´s coded -
one word . gap between trees as if
having lost one´s way with the pram .
from one tiredness into another -
my searching doesn´t discover anything it makes
vanish .
what remains . when the wind
ceases . beneath the green
at the pond - what is visible then
the trampled gras of a track


Old, old animals (with dots)

Went to see an exhibition yesterday:
Tuchintarsien/Inlaid-Patchwork since 1500,
in the Museum of European Cultures.
It shows wallhangings and tapestries in
textile intarsia technique with application
and embroidery - all made from cut pieces of
leftover woollen cloth.
Here´s one from 1719, depicting the Turkish

All the animals (except the belligerent little
white dog) on the whole thing are decorated with dots...
Amazing and inspiring what amounts of untiring
care must haven gone into this.


You need a tree...

... at least you need a spring stick

Last month Susan at Artsparktheatre
offered 3 "spring sticks" - and kindly
sent one to me to plant/place it. Here it is:

I took some pearls and a pompon from it,
as "seeds"...

... and made one myself, with a felt earring
I found in the subway... (2 more are in the
works). I´m going to plant them at places in
Berlin which could do with some re-spiriting
(not hard to find...)

So stay tuned for the planting reports...

"was brauchst du? einen Baum ein Haus zu
ermessen wie groß wie klein das Leben als Mensch
wie groß wie klein wenn du aufblickst zur Krone
dich verlierst in grüner üppiger Schönheit
wie groß wie klein bedenkst du wie kurz
dein Leben vergleichst du es mit dem Leben der Bäume
du brauchst einen Baum du brauchst ein Haus
keines für dich allein nur einen Winkel ein Dach
zu sitzen zu denken zu schlafen zu träumen
zu schreiben zu schweigen zu sehen den Freund
die Gestirne das Gras die Blume den Himmel"

(Friederike Mayröcker: was brauchst du)

"what do you need? a tree a house to
gauge how great how small our human life
how great how small when you look up to the top of the tree
and get lost in the lush luxuriant green
how great how small when you think how short
your life compared with the life of trees
you need a tree you need a house
not all for yourself just a corner a roof
to sit to think to sleep to dream
to write to be silent to see your friend
the stars grass flower sky"


Sticken mit Freude

Did some stitching experiments,
inspired by illustrations in "Sticken mit
Freude" (Embroidery with Fun), a thrift store
book from the 70s, and made a tote from it...

By the way: A while ago I posted a link to Advanced Style,
saying one doesn´t see much of that kind of style
in Berlin. But we do have Stil in Berlin (it features youngish people though), so:
Hooded-sweatshirts/ridiculous-pants/wool-caps-indoors capital
- or Queen of Style...?

And here´s proof that it is possible to write
interesting poems (with or without metre...) about clothes...

"Mother and Dad are up with the light. As in most marriages,
one walks slightly ahead, and with their two sets of eyes
they enter the outside world, drive to the mall, and find
racks of clothing on sale. Dad admires a pair of lightweight
outdoor shoes. Mother puts them back, saying that he can
have them when it’s warmer. She buys me a bathrobe
the color of moss. Vigilant, a couple patrols its territory.

In the afternoon, Dad comes downstairs and says, "Katherine,
there are no clothes in my closet." Mother goes up to the bedroom,
and, sure enough, only two or three things dangle on hangers.
She searches high and low and finally finds his clothes in the eaves.
In an unremembered moment, he had opened the Alice in Wonderland
door and draped them in there. What was going through his head?
He loves his clothes so much, he returns to them many times each day.
Perhaps he thought they were in danger, and, like a mother cat,
moved them to a safer spot."

(Nancy Lagomarsino: Untitled)


Rainy thursday

The labyrinth on it´s way to completion...

"Time in becomes time out. Group anxieties become
personal doubt. Expressing ourselves in dots dots
and dashes. Pure cocaine and false eyelashes.
Living inside words that seem to lie. Living inside
excuses that pass us by. Living inside loneliness
becomes a high. Living gets mixed up with wanting to die.
A daily question of going insane while tormenting one
another trying to ease the strain.
Dreaming of tomorrows we'd like to know.
Repressing our thoughts while trying to grow.
The heart and soul are not involved.
Idle chatter becomes reality while problems go unsolved.
Prearranged. Prefabricated and preconditioned.
We're baptised, advertised and posthumously mentioned.
Weaned and groomed for the glory of applause.
Living off the mercy of unwritten laws.
Shell shocked patrons making peace with God, while
admiring the acrobatics of a junky's nod.
Turned into robots through the power of suggestion.
We seek an answer and become the question.
Afraid we might die before we live.
Blessed with life but then afraid to give. We want to be
amorous, glamorous and larger than life.
Our cheap illusions become high priced strife.
Losing ourselves in times of despair. Becoming self defeatists
of unusual flair. We rush toward the beginning that might be
the end. We sit in the darkness and try to pretend.
Pointing fingers while our insides bleed.
Committing suicide to fulfill a need.
Highly intelligent in a very low way.
We speak of existing but have nothing to say.
We touch religion and make it seem like hell.
But then we touch unholy dreams and wish them well.
Faith is replaced with apathy and grief.
Indifference is made acceptable and then a belief . Our left
eyes all glitter while our right are blind.
We submit to this madness and hope it is kind (...)"

(Umar Bin Hassan: Personal Things)


Here´s looking...

"When you do not know what you are doing and
what you are doing is the best - that is inspiration."

(Robert Bresson)
- borrowed at Thinker online - great quotes there...


A sky of baby blue

It actually was like that, for a couple
of hours...

Some progress on the piece I call
Flesh & Blood

I used seam parts of an old shirt once
, sewing them onto white linen -
which reminded me of bark - which reminded
me of Johnny Cash´s song "Flesh and Blood":
"I leaned against a bark of birch
And I breathed the honey dew.
I saw a northbound flock of geese,
Against a sky of baby blue.
Beside the lily pads,
I carved a whistle from a reed.
Mother Nature´s quite a lady,
but you´re the one I need..."

Then I found a piece of green-blue-
yellow-pink silk which Glennis at Shibori
sent me last year (thanks again, in case
you´re reading...) and made some of it into
sprouts, growing from the barren ground...



...for a short while, at least

Remember the dead poplar trees?
Here are some twigs I took from them...

...and from a chestnut tree (dead too...)

"Every creature is better alive than dead,
men and moose and pine trees, and he who understands
it aright will rather preserve its life than
destroy it."

(Henry David Thoreau)


At the earliest ending of winter

Some daffodils (kind of...)

Had a flying visit by the sun today,
and a lenghty walk in the (so called) woods.

"At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.

He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry at daylight or before,
In the early March wind

The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow . . .
It would have been outside.

It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier mâché . . .
The sun was coming from outside.

That scrawny cry—it was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,

Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality."

(Wallace Stevens: Not Ideas About the
Thing But the Thing Itself)


Lay, Lady, Lay

Yesterday Jude at Spirit Cloth posted
some lovely thoughts about one of the privileges
of aging (NO, not being slowed down by arthrosis -
being able to witness decay in a calm and constructive

Talking about aging - even the Cloth Creatures
seem to be growing up lately.
Please meet this new Cloth Lady:

"... Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead
I long to see you in the morning light
I long to reach for you in the night
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead"

(Bob Dylan: Lay, Lady, Lay)


Sunday snivel

(Hallo-o C.! I´m practicing...)

Tried onion-skin dye. Turned out quite
yellowish. I prefer tea, I think (as in
real life...)

"Life is like an onion: you peel it off
one layer at a time, and sometimes you

(Carl Sandburg) Hu, huh...